なほたのめしめぢがはらのさせもぐさ我がよの中にあらむかぎりは
| nao tanome shimeji ga hara no sasemogusa wa ga yo no naka ni aran kagiri wa | Yet trust in me! For while On Shimeji plain The mugwort smoulders I, within this mundane world Will ever be… |
This poem is said to have been recited by the Kiyomizu Kannon.
I had asked that Master of Discipline Kōkaku be accorded the honour of the role of reader at the ceremony for the recitation of the Vimalakīrti nirdeśa Sutra, and when he was constantly passed over, had complained to the Hosshōji Lay Priest and former Palace Minister; even though he mentioned ‘Shimeji plain’, the following year Kōkaku was once more passed over, so I composed this and sent it to him.
契りおきしさせもが露をいのちにてあはれことしの秋もいぬめり
| tigiri okisi sasemo ga tuyu wo inoti nite aFare kotosi no aki mo inumeri | A promise dropped, as Dewfall on the mugwort— Such is life, so Miserable, this year’s Autumn must arrive. |
Fujiwara no Mototoshi
Left (Win)
あだなりと人やみるらん年毎にとまらぬあきををしむこころは
| ada nari to hito ya miruran toshigoto ni tomaranu aki o oshimu kokoro wa | Deceitful does it Appear to her? Every single year When autumn lingers not, that My heart is filled with regret… |
3
Right
よそ人も秋はをしきを浅茅生のむべもこゑごゑ鹿やなくらん
| yosobito mo aki wa oshiki o asajū no mube mo koegoe shika ya nakuran | Does even a stranger Feel regret in autumn, when From among the cogon grass, Indeed, the belling of The stags seems to sound? |
4
あきかぜにすむよもぎふのかれゆけばこゑのことごとむしぞなくなる
| akikaze ni sumu yomogyū no kareyukeba koe no kotogoto mushi zo nakunaru | With the autumn wind, Their home, the mugwort, Begins to wither, so Every single Insect cries out. |
45
みるごとにあきにもあるかたつたひめもみぢそむとや山はきるらん[1]
| miru goto ni aki ni mo aru ka tatsutahime momiji somu to ya yama wa kiruran | Each time I see her Is it autumn? Princess Tatsuta, I wonder, are she dying scarlet leaves, So that she may wear the mountains? |
46
[1] This poem occurs in Kokin rokujō (648); and also in Tomonori-shū (27), suggesting that it may be by Ki no Tomonori.
よもぎふに露のおきしくあきのよはひとりぬるみもそでぞぬれける
| yomogyū ni tsuyu no okishiku aki no yo wa hitori nuru mi mo sode zo nurekeru | Upon the mugwort The dew falls, scattered On an autumn night; Sleeping alone, my Sleeves are drenched, indeed! |
35
あしひきの山べによするしらなみはくれなゐふかくあきぞ見えける
| ashihiki no yamabe ni yosuru shiranami wa kurenai fukaku aki zo miekeru | Upon the leg-wearying Mountain meadows break The whitecaps; A deeper scarlet Does autumn reveal. |
36
Left (Win).
蓬生の末葉の露の消えかへりなをこの世にと待たん物かは
| yomogyū no sueba no tsuyu no kiekaeri nao kono yo ni to matan mono ka wa |
From the mugwort Leaf-tips, the dewdrops Have all vanished; Yet within this world Can I wait on…? |
693
Right.
頼めとや頼めし宵の更くるこそかつがつ變る心なりけれ
| tanome to ya tanomeshi yoi no fukuru koso katsugatsu kawaru kokoro narikere |
‘Believe in me’ And so I did, but Night goes on And, indeed, His heart has changed! |
694
Left and Right state: the contents of both poems are fine.
Shunzei’s judgement: the conception and configuration of both poems is elegant, and the Left’s ‘from the mugwort leaf-tips, the dewdrops’ (yomogyū no sueba no tsuyu) sounds fine. The Left should win.
Left.
蟲の音の弱るもしるく淺茅生に今朝は寒けくはだれ霜降る
| mushi no ne no yowaru mo shiruku asajū ni kesa wa samukeku hadare shimo furu |
The insects’ cries Have plainly weakened; Cogon grass, where On this chilly morning Patchy frost has fallen. |
463
Right.
思ふより又あはれは重ねけり露に霜置く庭の蓬生
| omou yori mata aware wa kasanekeri tsuyu ni shimo oku niwa no yomogyū |
I feel Yet more sadness Laid upon me: Upon the dew has frost fallen In my tangled mugwort garden… |
464
The Right find no fault with the Left’s poem. The Left wonder about the appropriateness of ‘upon the dew has frost fallen’ (tsuyu ni shimo oku).
The Right respond, ‘This refers to when frost falls upon something where dew has already fallen.’ In reply, the Left say, ‘Surely, it is when both of them fall together. We do wonder about frost falling on top of dew.’
Shunzei’s judgement: The Left’s poem has an unclear link between its initial and final sections. On the matter of the Right’s ‘frosty dew’, this has the same sense as in the Right’s poem in the previous round. The dew has frozen into frost, surely? However, as the Left’s poem is not worthy of a victory, the round must tie.
Left.
色變る鴛鴦の毛衣今朝見ずは降るとも知らじ秋の露霜
| iro kawaru oshi no kegoromo kesa mizu wa furu tomo shiraji aki no tsuyujimo |
Colours changing on The mandarin duckdown: If I see it not this morning, I’ll not know that has fallen: Autumn’s frosty dew! |
459
Right.
霜さゆる蓬が下のきりぎりす聲も枯野に成やしぬらん
| shimo sayuru yomogi ga shita no kirigirisu koe mo kareno ni nari ya shinuran |
Frozen by frost, Beneath the tangled mugwort Has the cricket’s Chirp wearied as the withered fields Become? |
460
The Right say, ‘It sounds as if the Left cannot see frost, unless it’s on a mandarin duck’s down!’
The Left respond, ‘There is the poem ‘the down-clad ducks come to my mind’ (kamo no uwage o omoi koso yare). If one composes a poem about one thing, that’s what one is composing about. As for what the Right have to say in their poem, if one is listening to a cricket’s chirp, how can it be withering away? Dubious! [fushin]’
Shunzei’s judgement: I must say I am doubtful myself about saying frosty dewfall changes the colour of ‘mandarin duckdown’ (oshi no kegoromo). In the Right’s poem, saying, ‘the cricket’s chirp’ (kirigirisu no koe) ‘the withered fields become’ (kareno ni nari ya shinuran) sounds as if one cannot hear it at all. The Left’s use of ‘dew’ (tsuyu), too, seems pointless. The Right has an elegant [yū naru] initial section, but the diction in the final section is dubious [shūku no kotoba fushin ni kikoyu]. I make the round a tie.